Parched
by ExquisiteEdward
Summary: He haunts me, awake and asleep. In the periphery, edges that darkness lit, he watches me. His eyes, those eyes, on me, through me. The want evident, thirsting always. I'm parched, how long until it is quenched?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Today is my birthday. ;) This is something new that has been speaking to me, and I need to add a warning. This is nothing like **_**My Devil**_**. It's dark with no humor, and I want it to have a poetic, oddly disjointed feeling. When you read this, read it slowly and pause with every comma. That is how I heard this story in my head. If you speed through it, you will lose the interpretation. This is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but for those of you out there who like something challenging, this is for you.**

**Updates will be on Tuesdays, barring any real life issues. I'll be posting this story while I work on ASWNE and LB, and this will be the only author's note.**

**On a side note…thank you to Lfcpam, JayNahNah, and betsmecullen for your patience with me and my strange ways, and your speedy pre-reading abilities. And thank you most of all for always listening when I needed an ear and encouraging me to become a better writer.**

**SM owns Twilight. This story is all human, and I own all of the twisted words below and beyond.**

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_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 1**_

He's there, in the darkness, a shadow within a shadow. Leaning, the wall behind, it holds him, bolsters his length that long, lean frame. He tries to hide, maybe, but he's there, I see him, always. I sense him, his presence that presence it fills the hallway and spills out into the room, reaching for me and somehow always touching. His aura, it invades my being, singes my thin skin.

My fingers tremble, picking up glasses covered in smudges of lips and dashed with remnants of amber still clinging deep in their depths. I erase the previous occupants from the table, a quick rub down with my rag.

I walk to the bar, my eyes begging to seek him out, always wanting but never satisfied. My need I stamp down and count my footfalls, _"One, two, three,"_ I chant silently like a prayer, a prayer that falls back from the heavens unheard.

I lay the tray on the bar. His eyes, those relentless darkened fathoms are on me, taking what they want, stripping me bare and leaving me achy.

Emmett, he's there before me. I speak the drink order. Waiting, I patiently wait, trying to see _him_ from that spot that odd peek from the farthest corners of my eyes.

Emmett talks, always talking and loud always so loud. I nod, unsure of his words, uncaring. The drinks, I place just so on the tray, balancing and holding steady. _"One, two, three," _I chant again, the distractions, reaching for them, always grasping.

Drinks are distributed. Guys smile, laugh, try to engage. I can't, because of him.

Tips slip into my pockets. My name, someone calls it, loudly. I react my head turning, and I'm drawn in, to him, always to him. He's closer, a touch of dingy light showering him. Those dark coal eyes meet mine and touch me heatedly, fearless, charging. I want. Those lips, his lips, so wet that mouth so hot and the warmth. My name, will it fall, breathy, a soft wisp against my ear? Or powerful, parting lips, rushing between my thighs?

My eyes wrench away from him, unwillingly. That person, the name caller, it's another drink, always another drink.

My empty tray, I push it onto the bar. My heart pumps the blood, more blood, pumping, pumping, pumping, faster and faster. The time, so close so needed. My steps, my feet take me, get me closer. I slip on my coat, so cold. I step outside, the wind frigid, cutting, biting, trying to penetrate my skin and freeze my blood.

A cigarette, a flame burning between my lips, I inhale, eyes closed, savoring. Any minute now...any minute, any second. And I hear it, that faint jingle, clinking so sure. My heart oh my heart. He's there, against the wall. So far, so close, too close not close enough. He leans, that leaning against the icy wall. My eyes, the corners, that spot seek him out. The glow, faint barely there glow and his lips touching. The quiet, it's always quiet, but loud his body shouts, screams. The wall, the silence, when will it get loud?


	2. Chapter 2

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 2**_

The time is measured, never enough, short and I need more, so needy. My blood rushes hot, knowing the anticipating. My cigarette falls down, down so far from loosened fingers. The ground catches it, cradles it, glowing like a firefly frozen. My heart, can it hold the blood so strong, the gushing red pushing harder and swiftly through burning veins?

I turn my greediness consumed my eager body drawn, my shoulder leaning against the chilled wall. My eyes they feast, his profile, oh that perfection. Sharp angles, rough planes, peppered stubble. He stays fast, steady eyes dark and unseen always forward never looking but I know, they see, me. I grasp at the edges, that small crumb, that unfulfilling nibble. I consume his outline and digest its beauty wishing so wishing he would look, just look, once.

The time, so little, it vanishes quickly. My feet move but whose permission closer and closer, wanting to push, farther, to him, near him. I stop and whisper in my mind, _"Soon,"_ my cold fingers reaching, touching metal, that icy chill.

I pause, my eyes feed, continuously, every second pulling from him just enough, scarcely enough to assuage my hunger. _"Take, take, take,"_ my mind shouts and I do until the last second, that last glance. The door, it's final and loud after me, shutting him away with gusto.

The tray, my hands grasp it and Emmett's voice, again. Strangers, faces familiar speak, wanting the heated liquid to quench them, stave their thirsts temporary, a fleeting moment.

He's there again, in the room, in front of Emmett, our dance. The drink, it passes between them, I know it, in his hand. I stay away, hidden among the tables, working yet somehow on display for him, his slow perusal. His frame slips back into the shadows again, basking, drawing from me. Those eyes, I feel them, him, my constant, his stare, dark and deep and drinking. I beg, he knows, he supplicates.

Time ticks fast so hasty, slipping away, but my mind consumed, with him, only him.

Bodies file out, some linger. He lingers, stays. I clean, eyes down never lifting, my rag wiping quickly but aware.

I feel him, he moves, emerging from the black, tall so tall, distance between, but his shadow, it brushes my edges, a shiver, as he passes.

My head turns. I can't move my eyes drawn to him, working fervently. His back he gives it to me, a gift, but how could he know? My need so sharp, my pain, the hollow and the empty. I watch him, his pace so slow. Another feast he knows my eyes are there, on him, all over him. He needs this, offers himself. He pauses, just a blip in time before the door shuts a bang behind him holding the cold back, hindering. I breathe, so deeply, for the first time. The first time tonight since his silhouette darkened that door. How long? How long will I hunger?


	3. Chapter 3

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 3**_

The lot, those spaces one after another paced precisely dark and vacant. Emmett hovers closely, his bulk that large body protective and watchful, concerned. His mouth the constant motion, words dropping and floating. My key in hand he stands, behind, waiting. The red door it creaks, that familiar noise. I slide in, the vinyl torn, ripped, the stale smell of age and rust, but comforting, an old friend. My fingertips reach pressing the aged button downward, the lock of safety.

Two smacks, that large hand on the red roof, approving all danger quelled my guardian. He embarks, satisfied, his large mass beginning to blend with the surrounding sooty shades.

The engine roars that lion within. My eyes scan seeking the corners, those crooks and bends of blackish cover hideaways that could conceal. Where? That presence so strong, casting a shadow of shining fire in the shrouded. Is he hidden, there, over there watching? I want, I desire.

The gears, the pedal pushed, leaving the lot of spaces in the background behind the mirror reflecting. The short path consistent, the same, that leads me to that place, that house, that home. A creak, slam of a door locked. Eyes scurry back and forth winding through the trees, vines, saplings and thicket, but always unoccupied, void.

The key with those notches fitting just right, a click, a push and opening. My eyes one last time they move quickly side to side, and behind searching. I breathe inhaling slowly and the breath expelled, the door behind me shutting. Quiet so quiet too quiet yet it caresses me and pulls me inward. I place my things in that spot over there on the table.

The cushions of the couch support me their softness needed. Achy feet meet coffee table. I rest, a moment essential. Eyes closed that sigh soft.

Time it passes slowly now, that hand, both hands on the clock with no movement. How long? Tick, tick, tick unsure but so many tick, tick, ticks.

Rising, those cushions plead, wanting my return, but I ignore. Hallways dim, long. That kettle in my hand placed with the heat beneath, warming. The chair seated my elbows down, resting, thinking, contemplating only him.

The whistle alerts, the sound and the boiling. The tea steeps the flavor and the smell inhaled my cool hands cuddling the warmness of the mug.

Staring, the worn wallpaper curled separating from walls that know, absorb. Sips so hot it burns heated warmth spreading the chill to a soft fading.

Drawn, drawn to that window that small opening, revealing and the sink below. Curtains pushed, pulled away, my eyes those anxious orbs, expectant. When will he come? When will I know him? Soon, I know, soon.


	4. Chapter 4

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 4**_

The stairs the gradation sloping up to that darkly lured rectangular opening. My legs lift, each foot moving forward, upward a slow pace. The bedroom and bed covers downy, the fluff dragging me towards. I exchange clothing for new ones, tossed. Feet and legs slip under the cool silk, shocking.

My head rests on the soft. Eyes, lids closing slow. I breathe my breath unhurried and sure. He's there, I see him, a vision in my unexplained subconscious. That hair, the color dispersed like rusted metal unruly, wind-swept and unkempt. His lips, the curve a plump ripe fruit, untasted, sweet nourishing.

I watch _him_ in my mind's eye with the tables twisted. My eyes follow him, his shape that form. My fingers glide, languidly over cotton fields. Lower, lower, below and under, skin on skin, touching tender. That vision, that slice of my mind, where he stands, in the corner my room, this room where the silken cobwebs hang. He watches me those eyes dangerous and he knows; he knows the skin that lies under the thick covers, hidden.

Slow, circular patterns gentle. Slow, slow, no rush. Softly, rhythmically my thighs parted. The wet what he does what those eyes produce, I see him, the observer tall within the cobwebs.

Faster, my finger speeds, still with the circles, dizzying. His mouth parts that thick tongue licking, wanting, waiting. He has knowledge without ever seeing. The anticipation he savors it, he craves it. He wants to touch; he wants what lies hidden, but he can't have it, not yet.

I begin that climb up that cliff face, so lofty the sheerness of it. Terrified, my fingers grasp the jutting rocks the small ledges hand over fist, my fingers finding holds, climbing, climbing the incline. Pebbles fall, echoing down below, reminding me. His lips touch me in the dark, in my mind. My fingers slip that rock gone and I almost plummet, my death, but I hang tight, desperate for that moment, that split second when he's there.

I sweat, my slippery hand holds barely there my body lithe moving faster and faster towards the summit, the race almost complete, the pinnacle. _"Don't look down,"_ my mind whispers to itself. My eyes stay focused on the payoff, up there so high, soaring, soaring, flying recklessly high, high there against the clouds my hand touches that surface at the top, victory, but I lose my grip and fall back, falling, falling, falling…

Chest heaves, body trembles as I drop fast, faster and faster, gravity yanking at me. The ground, stay away, I don't want it, ever, I want to stay in this moment this feeling of weightlessness, but I'm caught, I shiver when he catches me in his arms those arms so strong buoying me to him. When, when will he catch me? I'm ready, oh shadow, so ready.


	5. Chapter 5

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 5**_

My sleep, he invades it, shredding my privacy, never leaving me, an apparition. In every scene, that face, those shoulders, that neck, a whispery shadow haunted. Sometimes, I see him, between my thighs, above me, sweating on me, hot and thick in my dark places.

I awaken my breath gone; he robs me, stealing it, suctioning it from my weakened lungs. My body, the breathing labored my clothing damp. I lay, staring upwards at the bowing slightly, the ceiling, the brown smudges from storms past.

The day lay ahead of me, boring, mundane. How long? This need crested, the biting, the ache. To quench, I keep him there, in the periphery, those thoughts, that mirage so tempting.

I proceed with the trivial, daily tasks. I stop, though many times recurring, peering out my windows, noticing the snow drops, the streaks, the slants shimmering, and his absence.

The time approaches, my eyes always on the ticking, so slow, so slow.

My clothes, I dress modest, casual, not affecting to him. He sees below, my garments gone, ripped, through them to that skin so hot, so ready.

The red beast, that ancient contraption so reliable, rumbles to life. My hair, I smooth it, the white, those drops, wet, snow soaked.

The bar, I enter and feel the tingling. Emmett lives above, but there behind, now, that scuffed, burnished mahogany touched by many a man, the elbows, the stories scratched in, marred. Rose appears, sometimes, matching Emmett, challenging that equal partnering, her beauty so radiant, that smile with the white so simple, her nod for me.

The door, it opens frequently, the cold gusts. My breath, every time, passes through my lips, wishing for him. Person after person filing in my breath holding, then escaping, the rough air, frustrated.

Then, him…

I look and my eyes they need one glimpse that one droplet that shred just enough. Fulfilled when they crash with his that collision that moment yet famine, still starving, my eyes avoid, downcast. I shake, my hands uncontrolled when he enters.

My work, I work with the knowledge of him without eyes. That lean, always that lean, those boots crossed, the heavy soil, worn, so many miles clocked.

Men leer, the old ones; the young ones with the jokes, inappropriate, undesirable. He sees everything, knows my discomfort. Those eyes, they follow me, my every shift, my lines and my curves. All of it is for him, I am for him.

It's time. The time when the shadows swallow me and my eyes can dine. I step out, the cold sharp, striking me and leaving a whelp. My cigarette, the flame fights but I tame. Oh, the creak, that noise rejoicing. Those boots the scrape, scrape, scuff. The lean, almost time, almost time that silhouette in that spot, always that spot, _I see you…_

I turn towards him, and my heart, that profile so strong. My eyes roam, roam, the satisfaction seeping into my skin, my bones.

But then…he turns, he turns and he is turning towards me the panic that shoulder leaning against the wall, my mirror opposite. Why? My heart, that stampeding bull with the thudding hooves, tramples. How do I stop the rushing? How?


	6. Chapter 6

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 6**_

My cigarette once pinched falls. My breath the gushing in and out, pushing, pushing those white clouds so transparent yet seen, twisting and spiraling up towards the black blanket, that sky. Eyes, my eyes transfixed on his, suspended, caught by him, powerless. The color, can I learn, know? Too distant, though close, near, the dark hides those coals that peer, on me, keeps their secrets guarded.

My eyes, the blinking always the blinking shuts him out, for a second, another second too much, too much. His eyes, do they see, know me? What knowledge?

That cigarette, that diffused glow, a light almost extinguished, lifts. He touches, his lips oh they touch and suck, that silky suck firm with purpose. That cigarette feels him, knows that mouth, intimate, the heat. My longing goes unquenched, too long.

The wind, that powerful transparent goddess rushes her frosted breath, striking me, behind. The strands, the brown splits and divides covering my countenance like seaweed. I peel, peel, peel away the sea tangle and shush the bull that stomping, bucking brute behind the cage, my chest that set of bones.

His head turns away, and I weep, those lips pursing, expelling the fumes, a graze a muted brush stroke for the wind goddess. She welcomes his kiss, his breath, that life force. His eyes, they find me again, quick, no time spent. Is he needful? Does he sense the want, know my ache?

He watches, those eyes they skim me moving, moving and descending farther, so far, to cloaked places below, the heat there between, betwixt, for him so wet, imagined. The sweep of those eyes, that torch without a touch, arouses me.

I want. I want him to take, to steal. I desire him to devour, to absorb to gorge on my flesh, that phantom.

The cigarette with the stain and taste of his lips drops. But his, those eyes stay, with me.

That tongue, that thick member, a touch tasted, a sneak, wetting his mouth oh that mouth. He moves forward that forward motion, towards me, closer, closer. The boots, they scrape. He snatches, yanks my breath, leaving my lungs empty. My heart, how close?

Those eyes, they swipe my lips, smearing them with his lust, fervid. They stay long, too long, their intensity illimitable. Finally, those coals deep, the deepest, crawl so slow, slowly away from my mouth. His eyes, our eyes, meet, again, the closeness converging, such contact.

His fingers reach, but not for me, the sorrow. Those eyes though they cling, cleave to mine his hand touching cold metal numbing. The door bangs such force and the outburst, a loud thwack. The clang unnerves me, frightens me, a jolt. Or is it him?

He's gone. That lineament vanished, sucked inside. I lean, that wall holds me, holds my head so heavy my eyes closed, burned. I'm the one, gone, that door loud, always the first through. But now I'm left, alone, to contemplate the meaning, not apparent. Why? He left, leaving me needing. When will he stay?


	7. Chapter 7

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 7**_

That hand my hand a tremble in those fingertips, touching metallic ice. The door slams that noise so great, behind me. The warmth hugs my frame, chasing the wintry and the chill. The hallway those drab walls, narrow, falling inward. I sense it, the difference, a changing.

Emmett, the glass in hand and the spirits within, will he pass it, to him? Will he take it, the one with the eyes so murky seeking mine? Will the cool cup adjoin with that heated mouth, those fired lips?

My coat, discarded. My feet are quick but clumsy, eyes incautious, bold. My body, my being demands the pursuit of him, always.

There, there, at the bar seated, he waits for that liquid fieriness. His eyes, those seekers of me, dip low, chaste, bowing over the glass. My stare, not withheld, that disheveled purity I inhale, swallow. He feels me, I can sense it, I know. That mouth, a movement barely detected signals his delight in my exploration.

Work, the focus, but how, his existence it limits me, cripples me. Emmett calls. Respond, I know I must, but I stagger, drunken from him, on him, past him. The drinks, the tables the scurry all the while I watch, through that portal so small, the fringes, my narrow window to him. He watches, too, I see him those eyes lit, continual.

Drinks so many, difficult, my hands, they quaver. A sloshing, the umber splashes. I work but my mind, that watching absorbs me, always that place where he lingers. The time, so fast, it passes like sand, a slip through spanned digits.

He walks, those measured steps leaving, leaving me. Gone, through the heavy door, that burst, arctic, my bones frozen, decayed.

A breath, blown harsh through my lips spawns the sickening emptiness hollow, hollow, hollow.

Emmett, the praise, job well done yet I consider unearned. Talking, the loud talking, Emmett distracts, me, but he stays, beside, my safety, that kind, gentle heart. His smile catches so big, joyful infectious. He wins a smile small, given to him by my lips.

Our walk, together, a turn, the key, old and fighting age, that sound of bewailing, but dependable, the red. The routine played, always the routine with that pounding, a thud, twice, Emmett's gift of protection.

He ghosts away, leaving trails of his considerable person along the broken asphalt and lines, lines.

My head moves, the action, the ambulation left, right, left, right, my eyes searching the emptiness, the lot.

Is he there, drifting in the shadows?

No, not seen.

A sigh slipping soft and quiet pained, my mouth pushing the air, the sadness, inside the red beast. My hand, sure and steady stretches, adjusting that mirror with the rearview always slipping, down. But then, I see…

Him…

…Reflected. My breath launched, that needed breath withdrawn, by him.

He leans, always the leaning against silver, shiny. Those boots, crossed. That profile guts me, calls me, his siren. Do I answer him, that call, do I go to him, now?


	8. Chapter 8

_**PARCHED**_

_**CHAPTER 8**_

I watch, his echo in the mirror, his movement, swinging that long arm up, up his fingers those tips carrying that end flamed, touching that mouth I crave, his lips surrounding. He stares into the darkness, straight ahead, away from me, but speaking the words, that calling unsaid.

The bull bucks, the sharp pain inside too fast too violent. My heart, that beast, can't be broken, trained, his wildness branded. I touch that place, my chest, that heart I rub, desperate to calm.

His want beckons me. I hear him, that call on the wind, the goddess whispering. My yearning answers with swiftness not held back.

My hand quivers touching the gears, foot firm, pressing forward, moving. I turn, turn toward him that shiny, new polished, I pull behind.

I sit, I wait, the burn oh I burn the roaring that engine noisy that roar from me. Red's lights illuminating him, that spotlight shined, his beauty, unparalleled, sears me.

I silence the red, the key turned, the spotlight dimmed, extinguished. Quiet but that roar, I roar, constant thrumming loudly through my ears. I watch him through the glass unclean, those streaks, but his face that side of him unblemished. That lamp, above, glowing down though the dirt accumulated, diffusing yet still accenting, him, his luminous beauty roughened.

He waits, never turning, for me, that bow of his curved neck, looking down, seeing those dingy boots. My courage, what courage, not needed, he attracts, entices, drags me in, his captive.

"_Yes, yes,"_ that voice inside calls, the pleasure sensed, imminent.

I swallow the dry, anticipating the rush. Where? Where does he want, me? I want him, there, that dark patch hidden but hot, knowing his power how he can fill, penetrate, pulse so deep laying me open, my offering.

I'm brave, powered by my hunger, the urgency so long, so long deprived. The fire, it burns.

No breath, I heave, my lungs left without, my need overwhelmed. My fingers reach that button, that lock stripping my safety, exposing, but giving myself, to him.

His eyes they raise slow, slower, turning and capturing mine, holding me through the glass. Move… I need to move, leave the red to answer, to answer his call, his hail, but I'm frozen, stabbed by those eyes and pinned to my seat. The color, oh I want to know but too far too dark still darkened. That mouth that corner curled, the small twist so sure, he knows.

He turns, turns his back, giving me the black leather that jacket. But I starve, his frame quickly swallowed by silver. The engine his engine purrs a sleek lioness. She creeps lowly hugging the ground, departing.

"_Wait,"_ my mind screams and my mouth speaks quiet.

Why did I stall, hedge, losing a moment, losing him? What now, what does he want?


End file.
